Page 17 of Shot For Mercy

He nods, and I feel Matteo’s gaze on my face.

Armando runs away, going to the parking lot, and disappears quickly. I smirk, then look at my best friend, who’s still staring at me.

“Since when do you speak Spanish?” he asks, his mouth ajar.

“I speak French too.” I wink. “And Italian.”

“What the fuck, Cole?”

“What?” I laugh. “I had a lot of free time.”

“Prison treated you well?” he asks, and I nod.

“Yeah, you could say that.” I shrug. “I learned a lot.”

“Well, don’t let the Don find out,” he says. “He might take all the jobs away from me.”

I chuckle. “You can tag along any time. You know that.”

We get in Matteo’s car, the sweetest 1967 convertible Mustang. It’s his baby. Classic cars have always been his thing. I slide my hand over the passenger side door, and he grunts. I know he doesn’t like smudges on the black paint, so I just smirk. I can’t deny the thing is a beauty though. A shiny black body with black rims. Red leather seats. And he also switched out the stereo so he could have Bluetooth. It’s a dream car for sure.

“Don’t bust a nut on my seats,” Matteo mutters as we get in, and I laugh.

“Chill the fuck out,” I say to him, and he narrows his eyes at me. “I would never do that to Cherry.” Yeah, he named his car.Weirdo.

“For some reason, I don’t believe you.” But he grins at me. “Wanna go to Giovanni’s?”

Giovanni’s is another legitimate business the Colombo’s run. Specifically, Giovanni Colombo’s restaurant. It’s five-star dining on crack. Only the best of the best can get reservations.

“What?” I ask in confusion. “They’re closed.”

“They’re never closed for me,” he says with a smile. “Plus, I made reservations for us.”

My stomach drops.

“Uh,” I stutter.Is this a date?“I don’t?—”

“Come on, Cole.” His jaw pulses. “Can’t a man have a meal with his best friend?”

I instantly relax. I know he can read me better than an open book. So, I just nod and smile. “Fine.”

“Just fine?” he asks, but he’s smiling as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Yes, Matty. I’ll eat with you.”

“When you say it like that—” He looks at me with a glint in his eyes. “It sounds dirty.”

I sigh. “Everything I say sounds dirty.”

“Touché.”

We pull up to Giovanni’s about forty minutes later. It’s dead, but the lights are still on. Matteo parks the car, and we get out. He lets himself in, and I trail closely behind him. As soon as we make it to the hostess, she grins and directs us to our table.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” she says to Matteo, a little too friendly, in my opinion. But he just looks her up and down and smiles. “Right this way.”

This is good, right? Maybe if he has eyes for someone else, he won’t be so heartbroken when I tell him how I feel.

“Sorry, Chiara.” He grins. “We got held up.”

---